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For one second we stood close enough that I could feel the heat of him without touching.

Then Dean lifted one hand and brushed his fingertips along my cheek.

“Are you sure?”

No one had asked me that.

“Yes.”

He kissed me. There was no hesitation once it started.

His hand slid into my hair, gentle at first, while my fingers caught in the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. The kiss was warm and slow and far better than anything memory had managed to invent, because memory had preserved only longing and possibility while this had breath and skin and the faint taste of coffee.

Dean kissed differently than Paul. I noticed that and hated myself for noticing it. Then I stopped thinking about Paul as Dean’s other hand settled at my waist, and I leaned into him until the space between us disappeared. My heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my throat, but beneath the rush was something stranger and quieter.

I’d spent twenty-seven years wondering whether I’d imagined what had been between us. I hadn’t. I’d wanted him, and he’d wanted me right back.

His mouth moved over mine again, deeper this time, while my hands slid up around his neck. Dean made a low sound that sent heat through me. For a few seconds, I forgot the trust, the upcoming dinner, Paul, and even the children I was losing one memory at a time. There was only Dean, one hand warm at the back of my neck while the other wrapped around my waist, and the open window sending a breeze across my skin.

Then he stopped, easing back far enough that our foreheads rested together while both of us tried to breathe normally. I didn’t particularly want to stop as I tightened my fingers behind his neck.

“Why did you stop?”

Dean laughed softly.

“That’s not helping.”

“Good.”

His smile faded.

“You’re angry.”

“Yes, but I’m not angry at you.”

“I know.”

He stepped back half an inch.

“You found out today that the guy you might marry may have known his father was counting on your money, money you knew nothing about. You’re furious at your family, his family, probably the entire state of Wisconsin.”

“Parts of Minnesota too.”

That got a small laugh, then his expression turned serious again.

“I don’t want you waking up tomorrow wondering if you kissed me because you wanted me or because you wanted to hurt him.”

I stared at him.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“I don’t think you would on purpose.”

The answer was annoyingly reasonable.

Dean’s thumb moved once along the side of my neck.

“I’ve wanted this too long to get it because you had the worst day of your life.”